Wild Creatures
by Elissa The Elf
Summary: Belle, a wildling from the depths of the forest, grows up to be a graceful young woman, when, with a twist of another faerie tale or two, her life is turned topsy-turvy by an unexpected adventure. Retelling of Beauty and the Beast.
1. Chapter One: The Wildling

Title: Wild Creatures  
  
Author: Elissa the Elf  
  
Description: Belle, a wildling from the depths of the forest, grows up to be a graceful young woman, when, with a twist of another faerie tale or two, her life is turned topsy-turvy by an unexpected adventure.  
  
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Wild Creatures  
  
The entire Twelfth kingdom knew of this faerie tale sprite, watching her youth from afar. She frolicked in meadows, carefree and wild; her hair grew in untamed fire, bright as the sun in its new-risen glory. No parents or masters could hold her, no person could ever know her mind; she was the friend of all the woodland beasts, and knew not of the meaning of confinement. School was just a distant memory in her mind, as far away as the cold nights of the Arctic tundra, far as the whispering waters of the ocean.  
  
Her name was Belle.  
  
It was the only word of any language, save that of the forest creature, which she knew. Belle, the word that referred to her, was all that she could grasp, not for the lack of effort. Sometimes, spying on the village, she would hear sounds that to her were unintelligible. An old man, sun wrinkled and squat, was always sitting on his small porch, carving little playthings of wood and leaving them out on the thin railing, ostensibly to let the paint upon them dry. Truthfully, though, as he sat pared the shavings from the block, he could see the heathen child peering at him from behind the trees, lined up neatly in their gardened rows. It was all he could do, to not run to her, and bring her inside his little house, keeping her tight, and raising her for his own.  
  
The man was a widower, his wife having died several years hence from a terrible fever that wracked her thin and lean frame. The baby that she carried with her died, taking the woman with her in the due course of time, being only hours till the woman, beautiful even in death, expired. The man grieved still for her loss, but the sight of the child drew him as a means of dulling the sharp pain that still resided in his heart.  
  
Of course, Belle knew none of this, thinking only of the pretty colors that swirled along his wooden blocks and wanting one desperately for her very own. The paints enticed her, seduced her young self into stealing up to the porch one moonlit night, and taking one of the appealing toys from the old man's rail. The man, anticipating this action, had smothered the toys he left out in quicklime, carefully avoiding touching his delicate work with his own hands. Belle, having no clue of this, grabbed the model full handed, and made to turn and bolt. However, having swiveled around, she realized, in a split second, that this was a trap, and she could not remove her hands from the so-coveted plaything. Startled at having been outwitted, she sat down abruptly in the short, trimmed grass, and bawled, howling at the top of her youthful lungs at the injustice done to her. Having spent her terror out, she promptly fell asleep, as only the young can rightly do. Seeing that she was sound asleep, and dead to the world, the man hobbled out to her, and lifted her into his arthritic arms. He carried her and placed her in his own bed, tucking Belle in with the soft blankets and, leaving her to sleep, sat beside her in his old and well worn rocking chair as he himself dozed.  
  
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Belle turned in her sleep, feeling content at the beautiful dream playing out in her mind's eye. Feeling sunlight on her eyes, she opened them slowly, wary against the sun's blinding rays; she stretched out and sat up. She glanced at her surroundings. Her wardrobe sat to her left, filled not with such fancy dresses as the aristocracy wore, but instead with simple garments best suited to working outside as she was often seen doing; pruning stunning red roses, pink roses, yellow, climbing trellises and filling the spaces between the carefully placed trees. Scarves sat next to the wardrobe upon her dressing table, for taming her blazing red hair as she tended to her work. Appearances mattered little to her, for her life was devoted to taking care of her old uncle Christophe, tottering elder that he was. Getting on in age, he still managed to carve those toys that Belle had been so fascinated with for the village children. Belle was the one to place in stockings on cold winter nights now, for the man's arthritic fingers, though deft at carving, were unable to work the fine latches that held doors and windows closed in the frosty hours of darkness. She did whatever he wanted willingly, happiness coming to her from helping others in their times of need.  
  
"Belle? Are you awake? Breakfast is on the table." Christophe called softly from the front room as he set the breakfast dishes out.  
  
"I'm awake. Just let me dress, and I'll join you downstairs." Belle got out of the bed, careful not to hit her head on the gently sloping roof of her attic room. She made her way to the wardrobe, picking the first dress she saw. This gown happened to be old and worn, but still serviceable yet. Quickly pulling it over her head and tying her bodice straps, she slipped her dainty feet into black flats and made her way down the steep and creaking stairs.  
  
Belle made her appearance in a light rustle of petticoats. She walked gracefully into the small kitchen and adjoining dining room and, picking up two dishes to carry in to put upon the wooden table, she entered the dining room and halted. With her uncle was a striking young man, both chatting amicably between the two of them. Christophe noticed Belle and stood up. The stranger followed his lead.  
  
"This is my niece, Belle. Belle, this is Eric. He just moved in down the road a farm or two, and was making the rounds around the neighbourhood to get to know us all. I just told him all about you and how you found me and I found you."  
  
Belle reminisced about her first memories of Christophe; how everything she thought about him had changed, from thinking he was a cruel man to loving him dearly with her all her heart. She still occasionally thought of him as just 'the man,' while knowing full well that his name was Christophe, though not her uncle as they told everyone. Questions would have arisen if suddenly an old man took in a wild, fierce child with no excuses as to her abrupt appearance in his life. So he took to teaching her the civilized life and all its trappings, referring to himself always as Uncle Christophe.  
  
She shook out of remembrances, thinking that she should introduce herself to Eric as politely as possible. Who knew what rank this man might hold? Belle curtseyed nimbly, bowing her eyes respectfully to the man; then, rising, she excused herself to continue setting the table. Her ears were still alert, though; and she listened to the two gentlemen's conversation unthinkingly. Some of it was quite dull; conversations about the weather, and other generic topics, when unexpectedly the subject matter changed to a more serious matter.  
  
"So what brings you to these parts?" Christophe questioned delicately, wondering what could bring such an apparently cultured man to this provincial vicinity.  
  
"Well, I was living in the city," here Belle started at the thought of an uptown man, "When I met this wonderful girl. Wonderful, but quite literally could not speak. That was no matter to us; I loved her to death, and I thought she loved me back. But on the night of our wedding, she just disappeared. Into thin air. How, I never knew; we were on a ship. It was quite traumatic to think about the implications of that. I haven't quite gotten over it, and my physician thought it might be best to live out in the country. So here I am!" He said this all without any semblance of grief upon his carefully maintained countenance. Belle was shocked on the inside for his terrific loss, and the way he handled it with such composure.  
  
"Would you like some breakfast? Surely it's too early for you to have eaten before you set out on these visits." Christophe asked this in a tone that told Belle she should disregard Eric's last comments.  
  
"No; thank you though. I really must be leaving now. Places to go, things to do, people to see and meet for the very first time!" He politely removed himself from the table, unnerved from the turn of conversation as much as he refrained from showing it. "Oh, and before I leave, I would just like to ask who tends these magnificent gardens? There is a grand one on my new property, but unfortunately, I have no idea about taking care of roses." Eric rose.  
  
Belle blushed wine in modesty. "I take care of them, sir. If you'd like, I could come over to your house and show you how to trim and care for the roses." She blushed again at her forwardness with this handsome man. Why was she acting like this? Usually males had no effect on her; just simple friendship. Eric nodded at her suggestion, then left to return to his home on the other side of the forest.  
  
Christophe and Belle continued to eat their morning meal in a comfortable silence that came from long knowledge of the other's habits. Few comments were made beside an occasional request to pass the butter, or another croissant if you would. Dishes were put away by an unspoken, mutual agreement between the two.  
  
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After doing a few minor chores, such as sweeping off the porch where she had once been caught, Belle put on her overcoat to protect her dress as she rode to Eric's house on her sleek mustang, Etienne, and left to go about her way. She packed various tools in her side pack, in case that ramshackle old farmstead only contained broken pots and glass plates for greenhouses, as houses in the area tended to do.  
  
The path to his house led her through the wood, dark but cheerful with the twittering of birds and the chirruping of grasshoppers. She felt no fear riding calmly through the forest, having done it too many times to count, visiting town for the provisions they could not make at home or miscellaneous relatives. The mile long ride through the forest took not long at all. It brought her right to the back of Eric's gardened yard. She dismounted, and leaving Etienne to forge for himself in the adjoining pastures, walked around to the front of the residence, looking all the while about for the as-thus mysterious neighbor.  
  
"Ah, there you are, Belle. I didn't quite expect you so soon, but all the better. If I could, let me finish grooming Lolita. She needs to be brushed; I haven't done that since we arrived," he explained.  
  
"Go right ahead. I can wait," she told him patiently, choosing to instead look around at the magnificent gardens that lined the edge all around his enclosure. He finished polishing his little Arabian into a glossy sheen, and moved to the shed to pick up gardening tools. However, the only agriculture paraphernalia that occupied the rambling shack was rusty, and dull, worthy only for giving tetanus to unwanted weeds. Belle remembered the ones she had packed into her bag, and brought them out from the small leather satchel, and got to work teaching Eric about the way of the Rose.  
  
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She bid Eric adieu at the sun's zenith, Belle headed into the forest back to her home. Taking her midday meal alone, as usual, she left promptly to take her cousin up on an old offer for visitation. Aurora's small cabin seated itself in a small clearing by a gurgling, singing stream, far away from other human habitation.  
  
As Belle rode, she thought about just why she wanted to see Aurora. Could it be that she just needed someone to gush to about this new man in town? About how he had had such a sad life so far, or maybe how sensitive his eyes looked when he was telling that story? What were these feeling that had invaded her body? Why? Not, Belle told herself, that there was anything wrong with that wondrous feeling rushing through her every vein when she thought of him.  
  
Belle was so wrapped up in her thoughts, that she didn't notice any of the impending dark shadows, and a particularly venomous looking silhouette coming right up behind her.  
  
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Author's Note: Okay, you guys. Tell me what you think, and if I should continue. R&R! I don't care if I get flames, because that means someone does care enough to help me improve my writing. And hey, you'll get recognition...! Thanks! Beta readers, please apply. Email at sweetsweetlolli@yahoo.com. Thanks again!  
  
Much Love to all those .adoring. fans!  
  
Elissa the Elf 


	2. Chapter Two: Into the Dark

Title: Wild Creatures  
  
Author: Elissa the Elf  
  
Description: Belle, a wildling from the depths of the forest, grows up to be a graceful young woman, when, with a twist of another faerie tale or two, her life is turned topsy-turvy by an unexpected adventure  
  
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Into the Dark  
  
Shadows closed in around Belle, who was heedless of the time passing. Darkness came ever more quickly in the depths of the forest, and the black was more consuming, filling every space and smothering lights from just yards away. She continued to make her way down the now dank and dusty path, leading Etienne by the halter under the low lying branches that came up often.  
  
Hearing a branch crack behind her, she jerked her head around, and glanced back. There was nothing. Scared nonetheless, she stopped Etienne and mounted him, immediately pushing him into a canter. The breaking of twigs increased in frequency just as the pounding of hoof beats. Belle galloped along the trail, fearing for the noises from in her wake, and hoped that Aurora's cabin was as near as she thought it was.  
  
Whipping madly through the branches, wolves snapping at her heels and tearing at her cloak, she slammed open the door of the tiny cabin that appeared almost magically in a clearing. The door, minuscule as it was, widened to allow her in without forcing her to dismount from her horse. Inside, after sitting down to catch her breath on a small and dingy couch, she found her way to a petit window and looked out. Beyond the glass sat a pack of ravenous, scrawny, and mangy wolves ready to leap at anything that so much as set foot outside of her tiny door. She left the window feeling terrified, and went off to find somewhere to set Etienne down for the night without leaving him out to the wolves. The house was small in general, with seven matching sets of furniture and wares all over the house. Finding an empty room, Belle led Etienne into it, and got a rug from the front room for him to sleep upon. Belle continued searching, trying to find somewhere to bed herself. She found a room of small cots, all lined up and the size of a Thumbelina's couch. Exhausted, she flopped down on the bed, and forgot about her worries for the time being.  
  
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Belle awoke from the nap quite refreshed. The first sign of trouble she found was a small man looking not quite down at her, but more horizontally from his quite apparent height deficit. He peered at her, a wondering look in his eyes.  
  
"What is it?" he wondered aloud.  
  
A male voice from afar answered him. "Don't touch it. It might bite, and you never know what diseases those things can have." Noises in the kitchen informed Belle that there were more like this squat man somewhere off out of sight. "Is it awake yet?"  
  
"Yes, yes, it is." Belle replied in her own voice, not deeming it necessary to wait for the dwarf's reply. He started at the sound of words coming from the lump spread daintily on the covers. "Who are you, if I may ask?"  
  
"I'm the one who should be asking the questions," came a perturbed voice from the direction of the door. "Who are you? You just came from nowhere. We were working, and you just show up in our beds, with a monstrous creature sleeping in the exercise room, and you want to know who we are? You tell us about yourself, and explain your presence." A petit man was leaning against the door jamb, looking quite grumpy at this unforeseen and apparently unwanted visitor.  
  
Belle let his tone of voice slide past her silkily, answering, "My name is Belle, if you must know. I came in here to get away from some horrid beasts that were following me." She shuddered under her crimson cloak, forgotten in her fatigue. "I thank you for the hospitality you showed by letting me sleep until I woke of my own accord. But now, my uncle doesn't know where I am, so I must be off."  
  
The undersized man closest to her asked bashfully, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay for a touch of breakfast? We've got plenty to share." This comment was greeted by a humph of disdain from the hobbit near the entryway.  
  
Touched by the shy dwarf's obvious awe of her towering young self, Belle gave in to his undemanding demands, and followed his lead out to a table. She was too tall for the child-sized chairs, and so sat on the grimy wooden planks serving as the floor. While cleaning in general did not bother Belle, sweeping was not her forte, and hence, the ground remained dust- ridden as she dined with the little men. They ate.  
  
The meal, while simple, did much to satisfy the cravings panging in Belle's stomach. She finished as quickly as possible while still remaining polite. After helping to clear the dishes, she returned to the exterior of the house to look at the potential damage from the wolves. Large footprints peppered the dirt in front of the house, alarming in their size and the quantities that were out there. Belle haltered and mounted Etienne, carefully ignoring the pattern stamped on the lawn. Bidding the seven men goodbye, she continued on the way to Aurora's cabin. It was best not to worry her father, and by going to the place she intended, Belle could always tell him she had just planned to spend the night, but perhaps she had forgotten to tell him. That was her reasoning, anyways, that she would use to satisfy Christophe.  
  
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The directions she had asked for and received of the dwarves were true down to the last tree they mentioned. Turn left at the birch. Done. Follow the line of sequoias. Good. Last, walk thirty yards west, and you'll reach that familiar path to your cousin's house. There is was, leading shining into the distance. Just on the horizon, barely visible through the thick growth of lush trees, sat the cabin. As she neared, Belle's feelings about this place grew steadily worse. An aura of depravity set into her bones, a sensation of evil. However, she still knocked on the door, waiting for an answer. The door swung open slightly at her touch, creepily creaking on its long-unoiled hinges. Belle pushed the door open more, and slowly entered the darkened room.  
  
"Aurora?"  
  
There was no response from the murky depths of the chamber.  
  
Belle pressed on her way further, and was shocked by what greeted her in Aurora's bedchamber.  
  
Aurora was decimated, completely destroyed. Only the wolves could have done this to her, only they could be so brutal. It was too much to look at, and Belle dashed out of the house. She was stunned at the disaster that had awaited her as she slept innocently at the dwarves. What would have happened if she hadn't had the encounter with the little men? That could have been her fate, and not Aurora's. She ran at breakneck speed from the doorway, but encountered a mass, solid and unmoving, in her way. She looked up into the concerned face of Eric.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, disquiet filling his voice. "Is there something bad in there? Don't go back in. Stay out here." Eric left her there, marching determinedly into the small cottage. His slight intake of breath at the sight that greeted him was audible to Belle's unhearing ears, had she bothered to notice. Eric came back outside, slowly and carefully putting one foot in front of the other. He had obviously seen just what she had, and it tore him up even if he didn't know Aurora personally.  
  
"Belle, I'm going to take you home now. Okay? Come here," he told her. She ran into his arms, and buried her face in his neck. He cradled her gently, as she broke down completely at the just realized loss of her friend.  
  
"Oh, Eric. I was just. I came here. those dwarves." Belle attempted to say in between the sobs racking her frame. Eric quieted her, letting her cry out her anguish onto his shirt.  
  
"It's okay, honey. It'll be fine in the morning." He said this, knowing it wasn't true and that it'd all be worse when she woke up. But he still said all of this in as comforting a manner as was possible for him, and it worked. Belle calmed herself with Eric's aid, and disentangled herself from his strong arms.  
  
"Where's my cloak?" Belle asked him in a carefully maintained emotionless voice. Eric looked to the ground, and not seeing the cape, cautiously went inside the house. Happily, the scarlet mantle lay just inside the door, and Eric was not long from the arms of his new neighbor. He neatly and tenderly draped the robe around her pale shoulders, and set her upon the skittish horse. Mounting Lolita, he took Etienne's halter and led Belle off into the forest.  
  
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The two rode quietly, Belle concentrated intently on the reins in Eric's hands. They had not been riding long when both Lolita and Etienne shied simultaneously at an unseen assailant. Eric couldn't control the two horses together, having only two hands and needing both for his own Arabian. Belle's steed bolted, taking Belle with him on a adrenaline-surging gallop.  
  
It took only seconds before Eric was both out of sight and hearing, regardless of his attempts to follow her. He called after her, and yanked at Lolita to follow her, but Belle had disappeared into the thick underbrush.  
  
Belle knew not where she was, and the path was gone like a snowman in the midst of spring thaw. It was nowhere to be found, and there were no familiar landmarks that she could understand. All that she could comprehend was that there behind her came sounds of snarling, a déjà vu of her experiences just previously occurring. Belle blacked out and slumped over Etienne's sweating mane, overcome by the travails she had gone through, and those incidents still continuing.  
  
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A bell tinkled somewhere off in the distance. Belle awoke slowly, not fully appreciating how soft the mattress was, or the different smells that welcomed her. Suddenly, she sat upright, new surroundings flabbergasting her. She was situated in a high bed, with thick, plush pillows carefully placed to keep her from falling down to the parquet flooring. The rest of the room was lush, also. A table, glossy with varnish, caught her eye. Sitting upon it was a silver tray adorned with fresh fruits and cheeses; the sight of it alone was enough to set her mouth watering. There had been no food for her since the breakfast of the dwarves. Even that had been scarcely enough to satiate her teenage appetite. She was still dressed in her clothes from the day before, which she realized as she got out from under the silken comforter. She clambered over the overstuffed pillows, and Belle made her way to the desk that held the serving dish. Ecstasy almost overtook her as she ate the airy croissants and juicy fruits.  
  
As she consumed the meal set before her, Belle pondered how she came to be here. It was too much to think that Etienne had has the luck or sense to make his way to someone who could have helped. No, she decided, the only logical happening was that someone had found Etienne wandering through the forest. Pure luck, and maybe some divine intervention, as well. After finishing the wondrously appearing meal, Belle got up, and looked to the window. Off in the distance, something was moving. A large, shaggily brown something scurried down on all fours, just barely visible. The motion, fluid as it was, was completely animal and lumbering. Belle turned away, not wanting to know more about this creature or what it was doing on the opulent grounds. Putting back on her shoes, the only part of her clothing disturbed, Belle left her room to find a route to her horse and perhaps to search out the owner of this phenomenal house.  
  
She didn't unearth the mysterious owner or any servants, but right out of the oaken door was a stable, warm and inviting. Belle found Etienne content in a spacious stall chomping away on a generous portion of hay. He looked up as she entered.  
  
"Oh, Etienne," she sighed into his mane.  
  
Let's go, he seemed to whisper lovingly into her ear. She nodded. She thought nothing of the words in her head, or the possible consequences of them. They seemed natural to her, nothing amiss in the abrupt telepathy she had. Reaching for the saddle, Belle readied the steed for the journey that awaited them into unknown lands. She checked the stirrup lengths and the saddlebags, and started to get on. Just before getting on, though, Belle realized she didn't know where to go. She dropped back to the ground, told Etienne to wait for her, and turned to leave the stable. A white flash caught her eye; a note on stiff parchment glistened blankly on the table. Three words were inscribed on it in a delicate yet masculine flowing script: Follow the path.  
  
Belle decided to take the note's advice, but left her own comment on the other side of the vellum. In dainty characters she thanked her unknown benefactor for the comforting stay and the filling meal, and returned to the stall. This time she did indeed mount her steed, and left for the iron gate. The pattern of the interlocking iron rods was odd, roses surrounded by a patch of briars. Belle did not ponder long on this, but instead left for home. Right outside the peculiar gate was a path of white stones, leading straight and true deep into the forest. The stone lead far and wide and eventually made its way into recognizable territory, though Belle didn't remember ever seeing such a lane in her neighborhood before. She left the path, continuing onto the main road and onto Christophe's lane. Etienne was put into his pasture and let to roam, and Belle made her way into the thankful arms of Christophe.  
  
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Thanks for the reviews, you two! Shiara the witch and cheler were my first two reviewers, and much appreciation to you for that. 3! And now you've read the next chapter, and I fully expect you to review once more. I've already started on the next chapter, and the more reviews I get, the more *motivated* I can be to write. Any takers on the beta-reader position, by the way?  
  
And to your question, shiara, if you even remember it, she was about five or six when the story starts, and we all know just how quickly children forget anything, language most likely included. My mind set was that she had just started primary school, or private tutoring by a governess.  
  
The one who insulted me does not get a comment. I don't love her anymore, and don't think I don't know who you are!  
  
Just kidding. I love any and all reviews.  
  
Thanks,  
  
Elissa the Elf 


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